


I'll be Your Harvester of Light

by a_loquita



Series: Cast Your Fate to the Wind [2]
Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Humor, Romance, Western
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-15
Updated: 2009-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 07:43:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/260803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_loquita/pseuds/a_loquita
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She'd not seen Jack O'Neill for nearly a week, not since he'd been gone out of state on business. Now he stood in the doorway of the barn backlit in contrast to the shadows all around her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be Your Harvester of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mrspollifax for beta duty. This one is for my gals who put up with way too much whining on my part and for whom I promised haylofts :)

Sam was in the barn putting away the rakes. The sole window on the west side provided the only dim light inside to guide her task.

"Miss Carter," a familiar voice said.

She spun around. "Miss—?" she was worried that he'd hit his head or something, "What are you—?" but her faltering reply was cut short at the sight of him.

She'd not seen Jack O'Neill for nearly a week, not since he'd been gone out of state on business. Now he stood in the doorway of the barn backlit in contrast to the shadows all around her. Having obviously just returned, he had not yet changed and was still wearing his full uniform. She'd seen him in it only rarely; Jack preferred to be casually dressed when dealing with the day-to-day business of keeping the peace.

She couldn't help the breath she sucked in and the bloom of warmth at the sight of him in his brass, fine linen shirt, and good hat.

"I heard your father was away."

Sam found her voice. "He is, but only for the day."

"I came by to see how you were doing."

"I am fully capable of taking care of myself."

He tipped his head at that. "I know you are, Miss Carter; I'm just doing my duty."

She very nearly retorted with a sarcastic, "Sure you are." But that was not who she was then. If he wanted to play this little game, she'd have to watch herself.

"Colonel," she took another breath.

"Yes?" He strode toward her, confidence in his steps. As he neared her, he took off his hat and set in on a crossbeam.

"You've been missed." She wanted to touch him, but held herself back, waiting to see what he would do first.

"I have? By the town in general, or by one person in particular?" His hands went to her waist, fingers spread wide, his grip strong. He always seemed to know that exact balance of pressure to guide her without ever hurting her. Guide her he did, up the short ladder to the upper level of the barn.

"What are you…?" She started to ask, but when he lowered himself to the hay his intentions because clear. "Is this wise?" she asked, a little humor in her tone.

"Why, Miss Carter, are you suggesting that a gentlemen like myself would take advantage of you in this dim, dark, deserted corner of a hayloft?"

That was exactly what she was suggesting, and he knew it. A devilish grin grew on his face when she sank down next to him. As she lay back, his hand caressed her face, searching her expression as if it had been six years, not six days, since he'd last seen her.

"I missed you," he whispered. The words and the length of his body stretched alongside her own launched her insides into a dance of anticipation.

He started with her neck, then kissed his way past her ear to her lips, and soon his tongue was sliding across her teeth. Her hands, not at all idle themselves, found their way to the tie on his pants.

Between kisses, Jack chuckled. "For a proper lady who supposedly has never done this before, you certainly seem to know what you are doing."

"Oh, well," she teased, "it's possible I'm not all that proper and innocent. Not anymore."

"No?"

"Mm, my father has tried to warn me about men like you. Men that are only interested in getting under my skirts."

"Sam," he said soberly, "can we not bring up your father while we…?" His eyes searched hers, a nearly pained expression in them. "Not ever."

She grinned. "What do you propose instead?" But the question was a futile one, for his hands were making the answer very clear, and they had, in fact, made their way under her skirts.

There were only strings of sunlight making their way between the worn boards of the barn. But it was enough for her to see the subtleties in Jack's movements, the way he was taking his time.

She kissed him hard, fingers running through his hair, and a part of her was still cognizant enough to realize just what this game on a lazy afternoon was demonstrating about how far she'd come since that first night. Back when she didn't even know where to put her hands. She'd been worried that she wasn't doing anything right and was making a fool of herself in front of her new husband, more concerned with that than allowing herself to enjoy fully. It took a while, but he'd taught her to let go. He'd taught her many things.

She gasped when two fingers slid inside her. "Jack," she said, surrendering.

A moment later when he slowed, she opened her eyes again; he was fumbling with his pants, and she reached out to help.

"I've got it," Jack said, and soon he lowered himself to her again, this time with most of his weight centered over her. He met her eyes, just like the first time, just like every time since, taking that last second to seek her out. Ensuring that she was there with him, in every way.

She placed a hand on his cheek and her thumb ran across his lips, and with that, he pushed forward.

Her eyes slid shut. But the loss of one sense only heightened the rest, the feeling of his hand clutching her hip, his breath on her skin, the warmth that radiated inside her encouraged by his movements. Then the warmth turned to blinding heat and she knew exactly what the sun must feel as it breaks at dawn.

She was clutched against him. The sweat between her breasts had begun to cool. He finally spoke. "Happy anniversary, Mrs. O'Neill."

"Ah, so we're done with this 'Miss Carter' nonsense."

"Fun while it lasted."

She smiled, even if he couldn't see it. "Tell me," she asked, "was this all that you thought about while we were courting?"

"Of course not," there was a hint of hurt in his tone, but she knew her husband well enough to know it was faked for dramatic effect.

"Uh huh."

"There was the odd occasion that I actually listened to you going on and on about the medicinal properties of…" He cleared his throat. "Lavender…?"

"Good guess." She playful smacked him on the arm.

"What?"

She lifted her head and gave him a wry look. "The hayloft? Really?"

"Look at it this way, the smell of hay is now going to have an entirely different effect on me than it ever did before. That could be something new for you to study."

She stifled a chuckle and rested her head back down on his chest. She noticed that the corner where they were hiding wasn't quite as dim as it seemed a moment ago. Either that or her eyes were adjusting. "Sounds like multiple experiments are in order."

"And wouldn't you know," he grinned widely, "I've got all afternoon free."


End file.
